Wings and Wands
by MrWriterWriter
Summary: Dumbledore assumed his scheme was foolproof; too bad he never got the memo about 'the best laid plans'. Heads up, Hogwarts, there's a new green-eyed beast on the grounds! NOW UP FOR ADOPTION.
1. Chapter 1

**This one is inspired by/takes a page from **_**DerLaCroix's 'Cold Blood'**_

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**CH. 1: When an old man's schemes are vetoed**

The bundle barely moved when Dumbledore set it on the doorstep of No. 4 Privet Drive, it's contents sound asleep for the time being.

"There, the Dursleys will wake up shortly and Harry will have a family to look after him. Let us go, Minerva, Hagrid." He motioned for the two to follow.

Both of them gave the slumbering baby one last last look before following, neither catching the borderline smug smile on his face as Hagrid got back on the motorcycle and he and Minerva apperated away.

Though, while THEY didn't catch it, that's not to say someone else didn't. The moment all three were out of sight, a corner of the yard began to warp and shimmer, revealing two other Wizards. One was dressed in a dark blue hooded robe, the other in a purple one.

"Sacre' blu! Zat man is a damn eediot!" The blue one muttered in, pulling back the hood to reveal a man in his late nineties, though his pencil mustache was free of grey, "'Ell, we've both seen what zees people are like! Zey hate anyzing zat doesn't match zer idea of 'normality'! And leaving an eenfant outzide at four in zee morning! In November! I told vou zat zees is why most of zee world thinks so poory of Magical Britan, Winslow."

"Calm yourself, Marcel." The purple clad one replied, removing his hood as well to reveal a balding man who looked as if he could give Dumbledore a run for his money in the age department, "That's precisely one of the reasons we're here, remember? Now hurry, the sooner we get him out of here, the better."

"Oui." The French wizard went over and scooped the baby up, taking care not to wake him. The moment he was secure, Marcel nodded to his associate and both men vanished as fast as they appeared, leaving no sign that adult nor infant had ever been there

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Meanwhile, atop a perch in the Headmaster's office of the Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft, a large red and gold bird looked up and chirped in befuddlement, (loosely translated) _"Flippin' heck, anyone else feel the universe shift just then?"_

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The two wizards reappeared in what resembled a sizable drawing room. At least it would have except for the strange geometric shape drawn in the middle of the floor, elaborate glyphs and writing lining it inside and out. The only bit of furniture was a table decorated with several crystals, each one letting off a pale yellow glow. At the table sat a woman with her auburn hair tied in a braid. She looked to be slightly younger than Marcel. Every so often she would tap one of the crystals with her wand and mutter somthing in Italian.

"Che capra barstardo sodomizzare!" She suddenly snarled, looking ready to use one or more of the crystals as a suppository on some unlucky fool.

"Zee scrying not going so well, Bianca?" Marcel asked.

"No, it went fine." She responded, "I finally got a feel for what that son of a motherless troll has planned for that poor boy; he knows damn well Voldemort will return sooner or later, and he expects Harry to deal with it! The Dursley's are just to ensure he's meek and pliable so he has complete trust in the man when he 'rescues' him in eleven years. That..that..rah! I can't even think of an insult horrible enough for him! All because of a stupid prophecy made by a half-drunk woman. As far as he's concerned, Harry is nothing more than a weapon!" She almost tossed the chair aside when she got up, though she calmed down a bit when she saw what Marcel was carrying, "Is that..."

"Indeed, zay allo too 'Arry Zhames Potter." He couldn't help but chuckle when the woman squeaked out a small 'aww' as she took him.

When she did, however, a note tucked into the blanket was jostled loose, catching Winslow's eye. He picked it up, and recognizing the handwriting, opened it. His brow furrowed in irritation when he read it.

Bianca was the first to hear the old man's angry snort. "What's that?"

"A note from that fool, Dumbledore, to the Dursleys. It says the Potters are dead and Harry is their responsibility. But, he has the terminity to say Harry isn't to know anything about the wizarding word and that they're to use whatever means they see fit to make sure he doesn't stand up for himself!" He immediantly drew his wand and incinerated it. " Humph! _'Know anything'._ Albus has always been a selfish brat when it comes to knowledge, thinking only he can comprehend something, therefore others can't have it."

"Indeed, 'e thinks only 'e knows Reedle performed rituals to keep eemself tied to ze living world. 'Is defeat today 'as only put him out of our 'air for now." Marcel muttered.

"Which is why we've all agreed this must be done. When that time comes, people are going to need a hero, not a martyr which I'm willing to bet he expects Harry to be. And Riddle was no slouch in the power department, so it's only fair we give little Harry here a helping hand. Bianca, has Lucas returned with the necessary materials?"

"Right here, Winslow." A fourth voice called out, followed by a man who looked to be barely in his fifties dragging a trunk with multiple locks on it, "Took a bit of negotiating, but the goblins were willing to part with it all." He smiled as he set it down in front of Winslow and opened the locked one by one.

"Zut alors! They actually let you leave with zees?" Mercal whistled under his breath.

Lucas rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "Thankfully their giving me three years to pay it all off." He had to fight back a laugh when Winslow opened the last lock and both of them swore.

"Lu..Lucas..is that what it looks like?"

"Yep, I told you Lucas Nimarah never does anything halfway!" He grinned as cheesily as he could.

"Ah yes..well, I guess we best get started."

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Back at Hogwarts, the same bird nearly fell off his perch, squawking in alarm, (_There is is again! What the hell is going on!)_

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Before anyone starts up about me starting another, working this one has actually helped me get back into the swing of things with my other HP fics.

And to nip it in the bud before it starts, I know Marcel's accent is most likely off, but Fleur's is the only French accent I've ever really read, so I'm mostly by how it sounds to me personally.


	2. Chapter 2

Normal (adjective):_ Conforming to the standard or the common type._

Given their attitude and general disposition, it would be a very safe bet to guess that Vernon and Petunia Dursley were convinced that they were Normality Incarnate, to the point of loudly vocalizing their displeasure at anything that even seemed to interfere in their little world.

Which would explain the poorly hidden dislike for one Harry James Potter. Granted, their treatment of him wasn't violent or hateful, but they did do their best to ignore his existence.

Then again, there was that one time Vernon took a belt to him for calling his son Dudley a selfish git.

In Harry's defense, Dudley Dursley had been spoiled rotten his whole life by both parents, giving in to every one of his demands and pretty much producing a fat load who would throw tantrums and even resort to violence if he was denied something he felt he deserved.

None of them could explain it, but for some intangible reason, the expect screams, welts, and potential bruising...never happened. He could feel the belt hitting him, but it didn't hurt. In fact, it was more annoying that anything. Vernon, however, got madder and tried to hit him harder...

Until Harry growled at him to stop.

Literally...the bestial rumble he had let out had sent all three members scrambling back, pissing themselves in the process if their expressions were any indication. Since then, they preferred to just try and ignore his presence, outside of when they weren't saddling him with chores to 'earn his keep'. Probably wouldn't have been too bad except for the fact they had seen fit to make sure the rest of Privet Drive did the same, resorting mostly to lies and blaming Dudley's troublemaking on him.

End result, Harry's life was more or less one of solitude the first eight years. Not that he really complained, though. In that time, he found a

At least, that lasted until he met the couple that had moved in recently: Marcel and Bianca Despereaux. The Dursleys didn't hesitate to state opposition against ''a pair of damn foreigners'' living in their neighborhood, after hearing the husband's accent. Harry himself didn't really meet them until a couple of days later when he had ran into them during one of his rare free moments.

At first he thought they had bought into Vernon and Petunia's rumor mongering, but was pleasantly surprised when Bianca told him, "To coin an English term, bollocks!" They made sure he knew that, unlike the rest of Privet Drive, they didn't take the tale at face value. It didn't take long for him to consider their place more of a home then No.4. The couple was rather fun-loving considering their ages, especially one Winslow Homnibus who was apparently a family friend.

Life went on pretty much uneventfully on Privet Drive for that year..at least until the three of them dropped a rather LARGE bomb on the young man:

Him?

Harry Potter...

A wizard..?

And this, dear readers, is where the story truly begins:

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"No offense, Marcel, but that's not one of your better jokes. " Harry said, a hint of deadpan in his voice.

The Frenchman responded by simply pulling out a thin, foot-long piece of wood, and with a flick of his hand, made the nearby lamp rise into the air and slowly float around the now gobsmacked boy's head, "I assure you, Harry," He motioned to the others as they pulled out similar sticks, "Magic is real. And like the three of us, you are capable of using it." He motioned to the couch. "Might want to sit down, you've got a big explanation coming your way."

The next half hour seemed to go by in a mesh of unexpected info to Harry. He was irate at the Dursleys lying to him about his parents with the tales of them being worthless drunks who killed themselves in a car crash, unnerved about the real way they died, at the hands of a lunatic named Voldemort, and befuddled at the notion he had survived a spell that was said to be unstoppable.

But mostly he was furious with this Dumbledore plonker. Who the bloody hell did he think he was, just dropping a baby on the porch in the middle of November like it was a parcel and telling the people there to actually break the kid's spirit!

"Where the bloody heck does someone like that get off?" He growled.

"Unfortunately, people in our world see him as one of our greatest heroes after he bested a dark wizard by the name of Grindelwald; because of that, and the offices he holds, he's lost sight that the so-called 'big picture' is made up of several smaller ones." Homnibus explained, "It doesn't help that he's had the bad habit of thinking others couldn't comprehend things the way he could. Add it all up and you have a man who thinks he knows best and is quite willing to decide things for people regardless of their knowledge or permission."

"So he's full of himself." Harry stated rather bluntly.

"More or less." The aging man nodded, "As for why he's poking into your life, it mostly revolves about a prophecy concerning you and Voldemort."

"A prophecy that's a piece of grindylow crap if you ask me." Bianca muttered, "And that man believes it to the damn letter."

"What are you talking about?"

Marcel took the reins for this part, "Harry, we don't know the exact prophecy itself, but it basically says you're the only one capable of destroying him. Granted, when the tried to kill you that night, the backlash reduced him to little more than a specter, but he used some extremely dark magic to anchor his soul to this world. Once he finds a way, he will get himself a body again."

"And that is the main problem. Even though chances are good it was fulfilled that night, Dumbledore apparently thinks it's your responsibility to kill him again when he returns." Homnibus added, flinching a bit at the volume of the resulting yell.

"WHAT! How the flippin' hell is it MY job! If I've already done my bit, let someone else take care of that nutter when he comes back!"

"Once that man makes up his mind and thinks he's right, it's almost impossible to get him to consider another option. As far as he's concerned, you're his weapon to do the job."

"The hells be damned I am!" Harry snapped, "That old coot is off his rocker if he thinks I'm going to go along with any of his crackpot schemes!"

"We were hoping you'd see it that way, Harry!" Bianca chirped.

"Indeed." Marcel said, "Which is why we've already taken steps to make sure he doesn't get his way. Which brings us all to the crux of the whole thing. Like Winslow said a long time ago, when he does come back, people are going to need a hero, not a martyr like we believe Albus expects you to be. After Dumbledore left you on the Dursley's step, we took you and performed the _Essentia Draco _Ritual_."_

"Ok...and that translates to?" Harry asked, ignoring the small voice in the back of his head that stated his life was going to get a bit more complicated now.

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finally got this one done. Would've had it up earlier but between school and trying to find a job..let's just say free time hasn't really been plentiful.


	3. Chapter 3

"Why in the name of all that's rational would you even TRY something like that!" Harry yelled, "Trying to turn me into a dragon! That shouldn't even be possible!"

"Partial dragon, actually." Bianca said. " Before you say anything about it not working, take a look at yourself. A normal eight year old boy is around 3'7", give or take an inch." She deftly conjured a full length mirror in front of him, "You're what..4'2, 4'3"? Even with the fact you live with two human garbage disposals that gulp down over 95% of what's in the kitchen. And when you mentioned that time the lump you have for an uncle tried taking a belt you and you said you didn't even feel it."

Harry quietly mulled it over; it was no secret that he stuck out like a sore thumb among kids his age due to his size and somewhat bulky build, though he could happily say he was nowhere near Dudley's tubby form. He looked down at his arm; his skin had always felt a little on the leatherly side, probably why the belt didn't hurt. Vernon's failure didn't stop others, however. One of his cousin's cronies, Piers Polkiss, had thought he'd be a fun target to test his new cricket bat on a few months ago. Sodding git caught him right on the shoulder from behind with the edge of the bat.

Not only did it sting, it rightly pissed him off. He didn't exactly remember that happened until after the brief red haze left, but Polkiss was laying on the ground amongst pieces of broken wood, whimpering, upper lip split ,and scared enough to have shat himself.

He had tried to claim Harry had attacked him unprovoked, but fortunately the Polkisses didn't buy it, saying that even though he was quite large for his age, there was no way an eight year old was strong enough to tear a bat apart like that.

"Fine..let's say it's possible." He relented, "What I'd like to know is 'why?' "

"Like we said, Harry, Albus expects you sacrifice yourself to stop Voldemort. Not on our watch." Came Marcel's answer, "Plus the fact that prior to your beating him eight years ago, the performed several extremely dark rituals to enhance his abilites, sacrificing almost all his humanity in the process."

"Not that he wasn't much more than a..thing to begin with." Bianca threw in her two cents

"True. Anyway, this means he is a very formidible and extremly dangerous being. The three of us intend to help you become just as dangerous, if not more."

Harry looked at the three wizards one by one. He somewhat didn't want to believe it, but a part of him was adamant in its claims that they were telling the truth. That was the part he resigned to follow, "What'd that ritual do to me anyway?"

"The Dragon's Essence ritual was originaly used to help ensure chosen heroes stood a better chance of surviving certain ordeals they were entrusted to. Nowadays, it's almost nonexistant due to the amount of materials needed as well as outlawed in Britan since the Ministry felt it was just a waste of valuble resources and labled as 'dark'." Homnibus looked straight at him,

" '_Abscondere de draco, sit vivere arma esse praesidio: _Hide of the dragon, let the living armor be your guard'.

_'Sanguine et os de draco, fiat ferro et flamma fluunt per te_: Blood and bone of the dragon,let steel and flame flow through you.

_Cor et nervum draconem, ut potestatem bestiae cibus voluntate: _Heart and sinew of the dragon, may the fury of the beast fuel your power.'

"To put the incantation bluntly, Harry, you're now infused with some of the most well-known aspects of the creature: dragon's skin is one of the strongest and most magically resistant materials known to the magic world, their bones are on par with steel with tendons and ligaments solid enough to move their huge bodies; the blood, a substance potent enough to fuel them, and the dragon's heart, a massive bit of muscle driving it all."

"Wait..are you saying I have super-strength!" Harry's face lit up slightly at the prospect, remembering a comic he heard Dudley gloat about swiping from one of the younger kids.

"In a manner of speaking. You're no Superman, mind you, but you are a good deal tougher than your peers. Along with a better than normal sense of sight, smell and hearing, though you've already experianced that, I wager."

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Sadly, this is as far as I'm able to work with this story (wondered when i'd have one of those 'it sounded better in my head' moments) Just starts sounding horrible when I try to get any farther than this, so I'm going to be putting it up for adoption to whoever wants it.

On another note, given what's happened over the last couple of weeks, i've decided to go set up shop over at AO3 and making an acct at . and moving what i can over there so in the off chance that someone does decide to report me, most of it'll be safe elsewhere.


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